


Through The Eternity

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Struggles, laughter, breakthroughs, and love.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Through The Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> I have five drafts.  
> This was not one of them.

**I 1988**

Richie loved Jon. 

It was as simple, as pure, as that. 

There was no other way to put it, because any other way wouldn't be the point across. Richie loved Jon in a way that was so intense, so passionate, that it was like a fire, burning within his chest. 

Richie had said it many times, now, and he would never stop. 

"I love you, Jonny." Richie whispered in the darkness of night, running his hand through Jon's tangled hair, listening to his congested breathing. Just like every other day, Jon pushed himself too far, and was stuck in a constant limbo of exhaustion and adrenaline, wanting to sleep and unwilling to sleep at the same time, fighting for unconsciousness, but then working every day, every hour, every minute, every second, unable to rest, unable to relax because he was just so stubborn. 

It was like being with a man who was so close to death that Richie could feel the constant presence of darkness. He could feel Jon's ribs poking into his stomach whenever Jon shifted, and could see the dark spots underneath formerly bright eyes. Jon was delusional, and in between the moments of lucidity, he replied to any and all attempts at conversation with words that didn't make sense, not on a whole level, but at a personal level. 

"You shouldn't." Jon mumbled, voice cracking midway through, but he was asleep less than a few second later, the stiffness in his body melting away, going off into a hopeless oblivion that didn't hold the hell of reality, and Richie didn't trust himself to respond, only wiped discreetly at his eyes and resolved himself to wait until morning with the only person he would ever love with such intensity in his arms. 

**II 2011**

Richie couldn't see straight, and everything was a blur. 

Faces, people, voices that blended together in a rising cacophony of muffled words. 

He tumbled into the bathroom, fell to his knees. 

Nausea. 

The door opened, and the voices came again, but they were gone in just a moment later. Richie could hear light footsteps, and the air shifted as a body came to a stop beside him, still standing, but a hand was resting on his shoulder. 

"I'm fine." Richie said, but the words were false, awkward, hanging empty in the air. 

Jon scoffed, but must've felt sympathetic, because he got onto his knees, and rested his forehead on Richie's shoulder. "No, you're not, baby." He said softly. 

Richie rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Tell me what to do." He said, desperate for help, knowing that Jon always had some sort of plan in mind, no matter the situation or consequence. 

"Rehab." 

**III 1991**

The phone was ringing, and it's shrill sound seemed to reverberate through the whole house. 

Richie rolled over in bed, and blindly reached out for the phone that was the source of the unwelcome noise. 

It was too early. 

"This better be good." He grumbled into the phone, exhausted. 

Over the phone, the sound of people talking could be heard. 

"Oh, trust me." Jon said, and Richie could practically _hear_ the grin in his voice. "This is the best one yet." 

Richie propped himself up on the headboard, ignoring Heather's faint complaints. "Oh, yeah?" He said, always up for an adventure. "Tell me about it." 

"I'm going to take control of this fucking band-" Jon broke off, and then returned a split second afterwards. "- and we're gonna go on tour." 

The exhaustion was long gone, and Richie grinned, already pulling his pants on. "What do you need me to do?" 

**IV 1984**

"So, uh, what's your plan?" Richie asked, fingering the strings of his guitar absently, needing something to do with his hands. 

Nobody else was in the studio- just them, going over hastily written lyrics and drinking coffee in the early hours of the morning. 

Jon looked up from where he was making last-minute adjustments to the words, not pleased with how it'd turned out. "With you, or the band?" He asked, eyebrows raised. 

Richie thought about it for a minute, and then he shrugged. "Both." 

"Well..." Jon smirked, avoiding eye contact. "I plan on taking both of 'em to the top." 

**V 1995**

There were two sides of Richie- chaste and perverted. 

Somehow, he was being both of them at the same time. 

Jon, torn between laughing and yelling, slapped Richie's hands away from his pants. "Oh, go fuck off, Sambora!" He said, trying to return to his mirror so that he could finish getting ready. 

But Richie was stronger, and without so much as a blink in consideration, he grabbed Jon by the hands and pulled him closer, keeping his head tilted up so that Jon couldn't kiss him. "Oh, c'mon, you don't want some of me before the big show?" Richie wriggled his eyebrows, somehow managing to keep a straight face throughout the whole situation. 

"Don't tempt me, Rich." Jon muttered, pulling away once more and walking over to his clothing rack so he could get his jacket. 

But then Richie pouted, and, well, nobody had ever said that Jon had good self-preservation skills. 

Jon sighed, and undid the buckle on his pants. "Okay, but be quiet, this time." 

**VI 1983**

"Hi, there." The brunette said, siddling closer with a smile painted on his face that hadn't left since the stage had cleared over an hour ago. 

Jon returned the smile. "Hey." He replied, taking a sip of his drink and trying to tune out the distant sound of David trying to cajole Tico into singing while Alec flirted with a remarkably busty man in makeup. 

"My name is Richie Sambora, and I'm pretty good with a guitar." He said, reaching a hand across the bar as invitation. 

It was obviously a ploy to get into the band and earn a few extra bucks, but something felt different with this one, something _more._

Jon accepted the hand, and shook it firmly. "Jon Bongiovi." 

**VII 2013**

"So, you're leaving." Jon said, sitting on the bed, legs crossed, watching as Richie packed his suitcase and tried to keep his composure. 

Richie sighed, and nodded. "Not- not _you."_ He paused, and rubbed his eyes, which were irritated from crying. "Just working, y'know. The band in general, not you, or the guys." 

Jon nodded, and then smiled weakly, trying to make light. "At least now we can talk whenever we want." He said, and Richie laughed, grabbing Jon by the arm and pulling him into a tight hug. 

**VIII 1989**

"It's fuckin' freezing here." Jon muttered, trying to keep himself warm with the thin blanket that'd been provided. 

So far, Moscow was a complete and utter drag. 

Richie walked out of the bedroom. "I once read in a magazine that if you ever get like really, really cold, the best thing you should do is for you and your partner to get naked, and get under the blankets together." He said, standing boldly in the threshold of the door with zero clothes on. 

Jon stared at him. "How the fuck can you be thinking about sex?" He blurted out after a moment in disbelief, but there was a sudden warmth at the sight of Richie, naked as the day he was born. 

"I'm _not_ thinking about sex." Richie insisted to no avail. "I want to make you warm." 

Laughing, Jon buried his face in his pillow. "Well, you're succeeding." 

**IX 1990**

"Mr. Barker, sir, you have quite a big-big-" Jon paused, and then sighed, resisting the urge to cover his burning face with his cowboy hat. "Time out. Richie, what's the point in this?" 

Richie threw his hands up in the air, despite the fact that he didn't quite know what the point was, either. "Stay in character, Jon! Wait, no, I mean...shit, what's your role play name again?" 

**X 2020**

"I can't believe this." Jon said, showing off the bread that he'd attempted to bake, but now it just looked like a messy clump of baked yeast. "This is a disaster- look at it." 

Richie fought back a smile. "Well, nobody said that 2020 was a good year, babe." He said, swiping away at a notification from his agent, yet again. "It looks kinda cute, anyways, though not quite as much as you." 

Jon chuckled in spite of himself. "I think your screen is glitching." He said. 

No matter what the struggles that presented themselves may be, they've always found a way around it. 

Even if it meant talking over a screen. 


End file.
